We can fix this
by Kimberly Green
Summary: One shot from Molly's point of view as she muses over the last few years and her relationships now with those closest to her.


Sherlock felt a sly smile slowly leave his lips as Ethan Hooper began to jump excitedly in the distance shouting for his mother and Uncle Sherlock to come see what he had caught. Mycroft was sat on the three legged stool next to the giddy youngster in his waders and tatty fishing hat. He joined in the rousing adult applause that soon rippled across the 'wild lawn' that ran down to the fishing lake.

The seven-year old was soon racing up the grassy incline once Mycroft had released his catch into a small fishing net for him, so that his assorted extended family could whoop their congratulations and have a closer look at the small trout now flapping gently in the bottom of the boys net.

'Look mum, I caught one, I caught one'. The lad was breathless with his excited efforts by the time he had reached Molly and Sherlock who were reclining silently together in the early evening sunshine with cocktails carefully balanced on the side of their chair arms. 'That's wonderful Ethan, but have you checked with uncle Mycroft how long its ok for you to carry the poor fish around? I think it needs putting back into the water soon with its fishy family don't you?' 'But Mum Uncle Sherlock may need some fishy stuff for his experiments?' He offered the net out towards his 'Uncle Sherlock' almost dangling the poor fish directly under his nose. Sherlock chuckled gently taking hold of the net and standing to offer his hand to the youngster. 'Come on young man I have been reliably informed that this family only conducts its investigations on dead stuff, let's get this poor fish back in the water so that your mum isn't tempted to dissect it later.' His backward glance at Molly resulted in a playful slap towards his thigh as she shooed both her boys away. 'Well done Ethan lad, you're the first thing to manage to drag your uncle Sherlock out of that blasted chair all afternoon.' Greg Lestrade raised his beer glass to the youngster who just grinned warmly at him whilst Sherlock rolled his eyes in the general direction of Lestrade whilst the boy increased his pace dragging the consulting detective after him so that he too had to break into a loping run to keep up.

Molly watched the scene before her fondly. When they had received the invitation to Mycroft's 55th birthday celebrations she had wondered how this weekend was going to pan out. It wasn't everyday that the motley assortment of misfits that made up the gang she now considered her true family were together all at once in such a grand setting as 'the manor' they now inhabited for two full days on a sunny August weekend. There had of course been a formal element to the proceedings on the Saturday afternoon with a garden party attended by members of the government ministries that worked with Mycroft, and an assortment of dignitaries and obviously well connected people. They mingled politely drinking Pimms and munching beautifully presented sandwiches and canapés whilst the youngsters that were in attendance raced around the formal lawns chasing butterflies and each other until they collapsed in a heap, happy to go to bed before the formal dinner inside the imposing building. Whilst Molly had dreaded the latter element of that day especially, aware that past experiences of Sherlock among such tiers of polite society did not always go well – there was always a strong chance that something 'a bit not good' would emerge in conversation once he reached his boredom threshold – it had passed surprising quickly and with some clear enjoyment on the part of the detective. The company after all was privy to some of the most secret and interesting facets of the workings of the country, and for the most part they had reached their positions because they were the best in their fields. Sherlock was overwhelmed with the volume of amusing outcomes of deductions he amassed that could be used to tease his brother with at a later date should the need arise.

The past few years had softened the relationship between the Holmes's brothers. Some tense and dangerous moments for Sherlock on violent cases, and some short-lived but very real health scares for Mycroft over the last 24 months especially had meant that some honest and more intimate conversations had been had behind closed doors and the constant bickering that had been a feature of the game play between the two was for the most part of a much more affectionate nature. Although, Sherlock would still never concede a game of skill to his elder sibling, unless he could avoid it, it was still 21 to 5 to Sherlock in the ongoing Othello challenge they were waging when the mood took them.

She had to admit that Anthea, although not working full-time for Mycroft any longer due to her own family commitments, had done a sterling job as party organiser. Even the 'posh folk' as Greg liked to describe the other assorted garden party guests were an amiable bunch with a willingness to swap stories and amusing anecdotes and 'let their hair down'. It wasn't at all the stuffy and dull afternoon and evening she had imagined when she had looked in detail at the itinerary for the weekend. What had surprised all of her 'family' at this gathering was how genuinely well liked and respected Mycroft Holmes actually seemed to be by these people, and how relaxed he had seemed among them – even when he was the butt of some of the often hilarious after dinner 'speeches'. It was comforting to know that the often stiff and awkward Holmes older brother did have a side to his life that involved a warm connection with others, she had often wondered how day-to-day he could live such an isolated, detached existence – and it would seem that actually that was not the full picture of his life, he merely compartmentalized his existence as he saw fit – but he did have those social circles he did occasionally step into.

Over the years Molly had become fond of Mycroft, and much to Sherlock's initial amusement, and mild irritation, she occasionally would visit him socially for afternoon tea at his club. The ritual began when Sherlock was 'dead', the black car often appearing on her day off to gently whisk her away for tea and cake so that Mycroft could give her faintly coded updates as to the health and well-being of his younger brother. Following Sherlock's return the meetings had continued during the period when Molly was potentially in danger from the new threat that had enabled Mycroft to secure a pardon for Sherlock from the eastern European banishment. It had taken Sherlock, John and Greg's team over five months to remove the new threat, much of that time they were out of the capital, and sometimes the country. At the request of Sherlock, Mycroft had ensured that Molly was always kept up to date with the health and well-being of the men in her life when they could not be around to prove in the flesh that all was well. That's after all what they were, all of them, the men in her life. Greg, solid, dependable, Greg, who gave Sherlock his real last chance. It was Greg who was willing to put up with his nonsense not only because he could reap the benefit of those solved cases, but because he could not bear to see such a talent or such a good man go to waste, lost to the temptation of addictive substances just because the normal world was not stimulating enough to keep that big swirling brain of his occupied.

Greg and Molly's relationship was older than all the others present. They had a mutual respect for each other in their respective jobs long before the dynamic duo and the dysfunctional sibling had stormed into her little universe. Greg had weathered the ups and downs that were part and parcel of trying to be Sherlock's friend, had sat with her and held her when sometimes the remarks cut a little too close on a tough day and she sobbed gently over a well scrubbed morgue table before he would insist on a bitching session about the 'lock' in the pub.

John had always been her friend, her buffer against 'the arrogant sod' and shoulder to cry on especially in the first half of her relationship with Sherlock – or her 'Obsessed fan girl phase' as they now affectionately referred to it. He was Sherlock's mentor in the social graces and interactions the detective used to find so difficult to navigate at the same time as using that immense analytical talent of his. She chuckled to herself as she thought back to those moments now, her fawning and stuttering, her continually been swept off her feet just by a well-timed smile or a well-aimed compliment from the coat swirling, collar lifting berk! In fact it was amazing just how far all of them had now come along this journey in friendship and self discovery, all growing, challenging and supporting each other, some rather later than others she would have to admit, but all ultimately had weathered the sometimes dangerous, often frustrating, now and again tragic adventures that the universe had thrown at them.

Of course it was her relationship with Sherlock that had changed and matured the most over these last few years. She looked around at her little group once more now that the 'posh folk' had gone and they had the place to themselves for the Sunday, just 'family'. Mary and John both chasing round after their two children as they all giggled in the sun shine, she could no longer recognise the ex army doctor who had limped into the morgue to be introduced to his new flatmate all of those years ago. Greg gently playing with his new wife's coat sleeve as they chatted with Anthea and her husband and their new baby. She could only see love and affection between a confident and contented group of close friends as the overriding sentiment of the early evening. Looking back down towards the lake Mycroft and Sherlock were now making their way back up towards them (minus one relieved young trout) chatting and laughing easily. Ethan was riding on Sherlock's shoulders clearly kicking his heels as they walked in an effort to encourage him to go faster. Sherlock glanced up at her softly catching her eye – glancing upwards in mock frustration at the boy bouncing on his shoulders before smiling gently at her.

Molly allowed her thoughts for a second to wander back to those dark days when she was at her lowest ebb, and her situation would never have allowed herself to visualise what was before her here today. The period following Sherlock being shot and then murdering Magnusson was the start of a very black period for Molly even though she was not to realise it straight away. Her discovery that he had been injured at the same time as the tabloids were describing in graphic detail the sexual exploits with Janine of the man she loved, who had claimed although he cared about her that he couldn't do 'relationships or sex' had sent Molly's unrequited love for Sherlock into freefall. Unable to face him she had kept a respectful distance for the months following. Molly suspected that John had cautioned Sherlock on just letting her be as his treatment of Janine had been definitely 'not good' and it was unlikely that Molly would ever understand it. To his credit he had been very cautious and gentle in beginning to visit the morgue again and was always much more considerate of his treatment of her that he would previously have been. Encouraged by constant badgering by Mary, John and Greg to 'just get over the arrogant twat' she had finally begun to date again. They had gradually settled into a pattern of being around each other again that was fond and respectful as it had begun to be following her helping him with 'the fall'. However subsequent events overtook her emotionally when an unfortunate number of cases swirled together at once to finally break Molly Hooper.

It is often not until you experience a tragedy in your life that unresolved issues surface due to what seems like an unrelated trigger. And so it had been with Dr Hooper. A string of violent child murders by a child sex ring had arrived over the course of a few weeks into the morgue. As more and more details emerged it became clear that the horrific crime was not only committed by those who made money out of the misery of these children, but they were also their parents. The abject abuse of trust and misplaced love this case presented to those who had to work on it was tough on everyone. Its horror, and the combination of hopes and dreams and love lost was the final straw for an emotionally wrung out Molly Hooper, she lost it. The events that then took place however were to change the course of her life in ways she wouldn't have imagined as she found herself wet, dirty and dishevelled in the back alley of a seedy pub on the outskirts of London. Having wandered in total misery after experiencing something akin to a breakdown as she walked home after her sixth child dissection, the unrequited emotions for a certain Sherlock Holmes and her feeling of ultimate betrayal by his actions with Janine had erupted back into her world in a way that in her emotional state she just could not cope with. It wasn't a panic attack, it wasn't anger, it was all-encompassing ultimate heartbreak. It appeared dark and engulfing and swallowed her up, draining the life out of her so that all she could face was sitting quietly in the darkest, most revolting place she could find because that's how her life felt at this moment. So wet through, dirty, her clothes dishevelled from where she had ripped at them in absolute broken frustration was how a member of the bar staff found her when he had nipped out back on a sneaky fag break. Luckily the staff were able to establish her name and contact details from the contents of her bag and so when she ranted and then pleaded with them not to call either the police or an ambulance they instead called Greg.

He came of course straight away, not as a police detective but as her friend, bringing with him Mary Watson. The next hour of Molly's life seemed to be entirely dedicated to a hysterical display of anger and bitter outpourings of her disgust at Sherlock Holmes and his total dismissal of her feelings as she ran the full gamut of hurt, anger, and ultimately total despondency as she collapsed onto the living room floor at 221b Baker street. They had taken her there as quickly as they could as they were nearby and John was already there to pick something up. Sherlock was away on a case and getting a medical opinion on the state of Molly Hooper was uppermost in everyone's mind yet she became hysterical if they offered up the possibility of actually taking her to hospital. So dishevelled and ranting whilst her friends calmly looked on allowing her to offload in a safe environment, was how she remembered feeling before she finally fell to the floor and gently sobbed as if it was physically impossible for her ever to stop.

Mary was calmly and gently rubbing her back whilst John crouched down at eye level. 'Molls, I know you feel awful right now but you need to let us help you' whilst he attempted to take her vital signs now she could no longer resist him touching her. Greg was watching this scene quietly with tears in his eyes, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another when there was a quiet but very firm request from behind him. Sherlock was barely audible as he spoke from where he was stood with the fingers of one hand slowly removing the gloves from another. 'I need everyone to please leave my flat so I can speak to Molly' As everyone in the room was engrossed in caring for the broken woman before them they had not even noticed the detective enter the flat. Molly did not even acknowledge someone else had spoken, she merely stuttered her breathes in and out as the quiet sobs continued to rack her. 'Bloody hell Sherlock, how long have you been there – I thought you were away?' John was torn – this was not Sherlock's doing in this moment – this was the culmination of years of wanting that had not been resolved between the two of them – he felt for both of his friends, but his urge to protect the broken Molly Hooper was winning at the moment and he stood protectively in front of her on instinct obstructing Sherlock's view. 'Long enough, now John' he slowly took a breath and spoke calmly and gently, 'please leave me alone with Molly, I need to fix this'. His face softened as he spoke and his tone was almost pleading as he glanced for a second past John to the woman on the floor. John was stepping forward beginning to formulate the most polite way he could say that he didn't trust his arrogant sod of a mate to not completely push Molly over the edge when he felt the hand of his wife gently land on his arm as her mouth came to his ear. 'John look' and she glanced over at Molly and back to Sherlock. The two were now completely locked in each others gaze and Molly's breathing was slowly starting to regulate. 'Come on love, let's go we need to give him, them both, a chance to sort this, its been a long time coming – all we are doing are offering a sticking plaster on the gaping wound'. Sherlock glanced fondly at Mary in response before his head lowered to his feet. 'Alright' John straightened himself up grabbing Mary by the hand and turned back to Molly gently. "Molls, do you want to come with us or are you happy to stay here with Sherlock?' Molly slowly removed her gaze from Sherlock and looked at John and Mary. 'Need to stay with Sherlock, need….' She trailed off her gaze falling to the floor as she gently steadied her breathing. 'Just call us if you need to leave, all right Molls…. And you.. ' looking back at his socially inept friend, 'just…yer know be careful, you cant mess this one up Sherlock' with that he pulled Mary from the room with Greg following behind, lightly touching Sherlock on the shoulder as he left.

Gently closing the door behind them Sherlock very slowly made his way over to Molly and crouched down gently raising a hand to her tear-stained left cheek. She looked slowly up at him – those brown eyes were not adoring or love struck – they were totally worn out, pleading for support, and answers, he could see the absolute confusion there in her expression. Confusion at how she got here, why he behaved the way he did, what was wrong with her, why wasn't she good enough, why hadn't she got rid of these feelings instead of burying them away…. All of these things made Sherlock's heart sink to the pit of his stomach – his selfish defences had finally broken her, his Molly.

'Molly do you think you can you stand for a second?' She nodded slowly and offered him both hands the way a toddler who cannot get up alone offers themselves up to their carer. He gently lifted her and then held her shoulders firmly until she had steadied herself. 'Molly' he spoke softly to her never dropping his gaze from her face, 'we need to talk about this, we need to be honest with each other but first you need to let me care for you as you have done so many times for me in the past, you are wet, you are cold, dirty and you don't actually smell too good' he added – relieved when a small smile appeared for a brief second at this whilst she nodded her head. He made sure she was still steady on her feet and he quickly removed his coat and scarf and threw them onto the sofa. He gently helped Molly off with her coat and mud splattered scarf and took both of her hands again in his. 'Molly, I know this seems like a terrible question under the circumstances, but right at this moment do you trust me to look after you?' He heard her exhale before looking up at him and meekly answering 'yes'. Allowing a small breath of relief to escape him, (if she had refused he really didn't have another plan), he gently dropped one of her hands and led her towards the bathroom. Settling her safely on the toilet seat he opened the taps on the big claw foot bath setting the temperature as hot as he thought she could bear and added bath oil and bubble bath. Turning back to her he gently said 'Molly we need to get you undressed, warmed up, relaxed and clean again (gently smirking at her) and then you can ask me whatever you need to and I promise I will answer truthfully, anything… is that ok?' She nodded, but as he turned to leave the room to let her bathe she grabbed onto his sleeve….. 'Sherlock, you asked me to trust you, this time I need to you stay, ok, I just need you here with me whilst I work through this…. Please.' She could hardly get the last word out – so ready was she for him to stiffen and offer up a reason why he could not or would not do such a thing. She relaxed noticeably as instead he merely took both her hands again and said ' if that's what you need Molly that's what will happen, are you sure you can cope with that?' She nodded gently. At her confirmation he gently pulled her to her feet and began to help her undress, folding her clothes neatly as he went. She didn't take her eyes from his face the whole time, even when she was naked, feeling as she stood that if he were to stop doing this and move away she would just fall, all of her energy gone. He in turn kept a steady and what he hoped was a calming gaze on his Molly. What was unfolding here had created a deep sadness in him that he was only just beginning to feel the full impact of and the unfeeling, 'caring is not an advantage' clothing that he wore as his emotional barrier was being removed with every piece of Molly Hooper's dirty clothing – until he felt that it too was neatly stacked beside her pile on the bathroom floor.

Her helped her lower herself into the steaming bubbles of the bath and she sank down finally feeling able to begin to allow her limbs to fall to the bottom of the warm cast iron cradle. She was still holding his hand as she sank – and as she felt him move slightly as if to disentangle himself from her fingers she gripped them again and asked him again with her gaze not to let her down. He nodded silently at her and whilst she closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to begin to drift away as much as she could let them, she heard him undressing and soon felt him gently lower himself in behind her pulling her gently up against him so he could cradle her to him. Molly gently sighed at this final touch. She had just basically lost it as a result of lusting after this man for the better part of 6 years and now naked against him in the warm water she felt nothing sexual at all, just a safe comfort, a realisation that perhaps the fever was about to break and tomorrow she would finally be on the road to recovery. This sensation overwhelmed her and tears gently began to flow again, but they were cool on her cheeks not hot and angry as before and she felt strangely calm. Slowly she was aware of Sherlock's hands in her hair, gently palming the hot water over her head, soothing her scalp as he did so, setting a gentle rhythm. Molly had no idea how long they had been together with him gently cleaning and soothing her before he whispered softly in her ear 'Molly I don't want you to get cold, are we ok to get you wrapped up in bed now and if you want to we can talk?' It was only as she nodded her accent that she realised that for however long they had been like this he had not spoken a single word – he had switched off his brain and his motor mouth and had simply offered her physical comfort – again she became overwhelmed at this and new tears began to flow afresh. Getting out of the bath first he helped her to stand and wrapped her up in one of his ridiculously expensive fluffy towels before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom. Gently sitting her on the bed he wrapped himself in a robe and returned with another towel to sit beside her and gently dry her hair – once again creating a soothing rhythm on her scalp. She felt herself leaning in to his movements finally smiling softly, her emotions too drained to hold on to anything now other than exhaustion. Her eyes had closed even before he had settled her into his bed wrapping the quilt over her right up to her chin. As she grasped his hand once again as he turned to leave her side of the bed he crouched down so that he could look directly into her eyes, 'don't worry Dr Hooper I am staying with you, but I presume you don't actually want me to clamber over you?' She managed a smile at this and released him, instinctively pulling his hand back into hers when he had settled himself into bed with as much of his body as he could curved against her and placed his arm protectively around her. Feeling her relax against him and begin to breath deeply he gently mumbled in her ear 'sleep now Molly, I will be here when you wake up I promise.'

Surprised at how empty and deep her sleep had felt Molly gently opened her eyes. She was in exactly the same position and she was still holding Sherlock's hand in hers. Feeling her stir he mumbled in her ear 'what do you need Molly? Do you need to talk? Or do you need to sleep?' She turned herself around still holding his hand, bringing it so it was clasped against her chest. She looked him directly in the eyes, their faces inches apart, she could feel his even breath on her chin. "I need to talk, I know I will be ok, but this has scared me, I need to understand more of this, of us, I don't think I can go through this again I feel like I have unravelled.' He was quiet for a mere moment 'I meant it Molly – I am all yours right in this moment, this pain has been caused by the years of me thinking its ok for you to love me and me to hold you at arms length from the great Sherlock Holmes, offering you titbits of affection when I am vulnerable or when it suits me, I am so sorry Molly – I need to fix this if I can, so you can be well, and also so perhaps in the future you can forgive me. You have always made me a better man Molly Hooper and you deserve much better than anything I can give you'

'Did you sleep with Irene Sherlock?' 'No Molly, I was intrigued by her as intellectually she fascinated me, and sex was her job so she knew how to push buttons on someone like me, but it would have been just sex, and I could never have trusted her. I was sad at the loss of such an intriguing woman in the end, and her betrayal of what I thought her feelings were for me that's all'

'Did you sleep with Janine?' 'Yes I slept with her.' His face fell from her gaze for an instant. 'When I have told you in the past that I cannot do love or relationships its entirely true Molly. My relationship with Janine, whilst inexplicable I know to you and others, was just the work, just sex, just physical actions to achieve a result on a case. My brain is a whirling seething mass of information 24 hours a day, that sometimes exhausts me, sometimes overwhelms me, but I need it to function, to do the work. If I could not do the work then I know what would happen, I would go back to being the pathetic junkie that Mycroft has dragged into rehab too many times in the past. In my old life that didn't trouble me, but now I have my family, I have you and John and Mary and Greg and Mrs Hudson and their children – I have things to lose that are too precious to throw away so I cannot risk the work. Sex isn't love Molly, on its own it's not a relationship, its just sex. I was able to have sex with Janine in a way that convinced her I had feelings for her without that actually resulting in any real emotional entanglement with her from my perspective.'

'How on earth were you able to do that Sherlock, how could you turn on physical attraction for someone like that, enough to convince her, and why would you throw away your first time on something so sordid, I really can't understand…' Molly was beginning to feel a little defeated again on her journey to recovery as she tried to process this conversation. Sherlock gently moved away a little so he could place his free hand on her cheek. 'I wasn't a virgin Molly, contrary to what everyone seemed to believe, I just rarely felt the need to have sex and if I did I had an arrangement with a professional friend of mine who supplied any necessary services. That way there was never any danger of emotions getting tangled up with a physical act. On your more important question Molly, I am ashamed to say I took advantage of you again' 'What do you mean Sherlock I didn't help you twist Janine round your little finger' 'I am afraid Molly I was able to have sex with Janine because I used to imagine I was with you.'

His last statement held heavy in the air as Molly processed it. 'Sherlock how can you say that and yet never give in to actually being with me, I still don't understand?' Sherlock held still for a moment before answering carefully. 'Molly I am an addict. My brain picks up everything, processes everything, very rarely rests. I have been in love once before a long time ago and it led to nothing but heartbreak. I was possessive, demanding, insatiable, I ended up pushing away someone I loved because I needed her more than she was willing to give back and I resented how those feelings took over and meant I could not think any more, the way I needed to think. I find love overwhelming – that is why I cannot be **in** love with you Molly Hooper even though I do love you more than I have a right to.' As he finished speaking Molly could feel her own tears slowly falling and see the beginnings of his own collecting at the corner of his eyes. She pulled him in as close as she could physically get him and held him tightly as they both wept. 'I am so, so sorry Molly' he repeated over and over against her shoulder as she soothed him and hushed him to be quiet.

'Sherlock you say if we were to be together you would break my heart but as we have seen tonight it is already broken. I need to put this ghost to rest Sherlock, I can let you go if that's what you need but first I think I need you to be mine, I think I need this, the what ifs and the fantasies need to be gone for me to move on.' He looked at her steadily as she finished speaking, calm again, gently stroking her hair. He moved back slightly beginning to untangle his fingers from her hand when once again she tightened her grip, 'I need to trust you one last time Sherlock Holmes, don't let me down.' He smiled sadly at her, as if he was resigned to his fate but also relieved it was over. He gently pulled her close again and kissed her softly and deeply on the lips, taking the breath from her as if he would suffocate if he didn't have it. Molly had had a number of loving relationships in the past, with good sex, with a connection and tenderness that was lovely, but never had she experienced what she experienced next with the man tenderly holding her. It was as if he needed to caress all of her, taste all of her, and leave his kisses on every inch of her skin. It all became one giant caress, she was soon unaware of where he was, what was being touched, just that she was being cherished in the most loving way she could possibly imagine. When she had often fantasized about sex with Sherlock Holmes this slow, tender enveloping sensation was not how it went in her head. There was no heat, no rabid passion just consuming togetherness that simultaneously broke and healed her heart. When one of his caresses was a simple stroke with his tongue against her folds followed by gentle suction with his mouth on her clitoris an orgasm she wasn't even aware was building it was so slow and gentle, pulsed through her, low, deep and long until it had removed all coherent thought. On the edge of it subsiding she felt him envelop her with his arms and enter her, once again slowly, gently and all-consuming, him gazing intently at her as he pushed deeper and deeper trying to lose himself within her. For how long they stayed connected in their languid and tender movements she had no idea before he gently whispered 'I love you Molly Hooper' and buried his head in her shoulder as he came. Emotionally exhausted they both soon slept, not even bothering to move away from each other, neither wishing to lose any contact.

Molly awoke first, she could see from the muted light coming through the bedroom window that it was early. She slowly became aware that she was back on her side, as she had been much earlier the previous night, curled up against him again. She smiled to herself as she realised that she was still holding his hand as it draped over her ribcage from behind. Feeling her stir Sherlock awoke, pulling her instinctively a little tighter towards him, moving forwards to breathe against her neck for a few seconds before he finally spoke. 'Molly are you awake?' She moved his hand gently as she turned to face him. They were now almost nose-to-nose, sleepily observing one another carefully. He looked a little apprehensive and she could see he was scanning her face, trying to decide how she was feeling.

Molly gently released his hand and gave it back to him pushing it gently towards his chest before smiling shyly at him. She felt calm, she felt tired, but she also felt safe and loved. Yes she knew now finally that she was loved. The realisation that she did have a deeply rooted relationship with this man, who used to make her heart jump just by smiling at her, was the final ending to the torment of Molly Hooper. It wasn't after all going to be the fairy tale romance and textbook happy ending she had longed for, but last night had changed everything. In the last few hours she had realised that she had finally grieved for the life she knew she was never going to have, but in doing so in front of him in such a raw way she had been able to convince him to drop those defences if only for a brief moment in time to finally be honest with both her and himself. The relief for both of them was palpable, and she knew now she could move on.

'Molly I …' She shushed him, placing a finger on his lips. "Sherlock don't worry, I'm good. I am tired, I am emotionally exhausted, but I am good. I think we will always feel this way about each other and that's enough, I know it is. I want you as the man you are, doing what you do, the way you do it. And that man doesn't do marriage and kids, school runs and household chores and date night. But I also know even the great Sherlock Holmes could not have faked the deep feelings you offered me last night,' She had never shared that level on intense intimacy with anyone before and she guessed that he hadn't either. She knew it was a gift he didn't give her lightly and she would love him forever for that. 'Molly although I cant give you many of the things you need, someday someone will, I know it, You must believe that. But I also know I want... I need you in my life Molly Hooper. Can we find a way to make that happen without me continually breaking your heart like the arrogant sod that I am?' She laughed gently at this pleading statement from him. 'I think detective that we just did. A few rules though for the future friendship Mr Holmes. You do not get any additional privileges in my morgue just because it turns out you do have a tender side, I reiterate again – I will never allow you to sneak a full body back to Baker Street. (He smiled ruefully at this..) and… (she dropped her voice slightly) You have to now let me get on with my life, with whichever lucky man eventually saunters into it. Although I would be immensely grateful if you could deduce the hell out of him and determine long term partner suitability before I begin seriously dating him, just to avoid any further heartbreak. If he passes the Sherlock test you must of course butt out, unless of course he does end up hurting me, then you may torture him mentally or physically – your choice detective! ' Sherlock laughed openly at this – reaching down to gently kiss her on the forehead. 'Agreed. Now I suggest Dr Hooper that we please get up and go out for some breakfast. As I had no intention of actually returning for a few days there is only a bit of old milk and a bag of eyeballs in the fridge, neither of which are ingredients to a nutritious start to the day.'

They dressed in a companionable silence after first searching Sherlock's drawers for to find a shirt and jogging pants that would do for Molly until she could get home. They strolled across London together in the early morning sunshine. Molly's hand tucked in his within his Belstaff pocket, admiring the gentle colours of an autumn morning as they searched for a quiet café where they could get coffee and eggs. Once seated and eating they both smirked as they each began to be bombarded with text messages from the worried posse of friends who had so reluctantly left them to their own devices last night. Molly quickly replied to the simple but heartfelt queries about her wellbeing this morning from Mary and then Greg. Sherlock ignored his phone with an irritated smirk for a good half an hour until finally Molly kicked him under the table as the fifth message arrived in his inbox from John.

**Molly has replied to Mary you arse so I know you are there with her and are both ok. Don't be such a frustrating twit, I was worried…..ignoring me right now is a bit not good Sherlock JW**

**Decided to remove twit costume for one night only, we are both fine. Now let me eat my eggs in peace before Molly steals them as she appears to have the appetite of a horse this morning SH**

Molly knew that her relationship with this genius of a man would seem odd to much of the outside world but she didn't care. Since that night they had been able to fall into a truly deep and lasting friendship of a quality few are lucky to find, each holding part of the heart of the other. Sherlock was true to his word and even managed to be quite unobtrusive in his boyfriend vetting over the following months. So much so that many of the poor souls rejected were never even aware that they had ever met the detective. Again, true to his word, those who did pass muster were allowed into their madcap inner circle whole heartedly with no interference from him, his eye rolling when he just could not help himself was usually aimed at John or Mary and was never in sight of the pathologist. All of them felt a little sorry for the many blokes who, however keen they were on Molly, could never quite understand that her best friend was a mad genius who now and again was gonna turn up out of the blue and expect Molly to drop everything to help him with what he needed, and often she was going to do just that.

One day however both Molly and Sherlock were quietly confident that perhaps they had found that rare breed of man who was not threatened by their relationship and in fact was grateful that they had each other. As she continued turning these memories over in her thoughts Molly was delighted to suddenly see that very man striding towards her over the grass, his overnight bag in one hand. 'Dad!' Ethan shrieked and struggled in excitement as Sherlock smiled and lowered the youngster down to the ground so he could run into the arms of the waiting heart surgeon. Dr Edward Hooper smiled at Sherlock in welcome as he began to carry Ethan towards his wife who was now coming to meet him with a very large grin on her face. Everyone found it endlessly amusing that Molly had fallen in love with and married another Dr Hooper, although as Sherlock noted he was especially grateful as it saved him wasting any mind space on filing Molly under a new name. 'Ed what are you doing here? How did you manage to get away?' Molly was smiling up at her handsome husband. 'It turns out it all wasn't quite the emergency we feared so I was able to shoot off again earlier than I thought. Have you all had a good time? Hope you don't mind but I called Mycroft this morning and asked him if you and I could stay on another night together, I wanted at least a little bit of time in this beautiful spot with my wife.' He looked down lovingly at her as he stroked her cheek. Molly smiled and blushed, reaching out to take Ethan from him. Ed turned to Sherlock who had now reached the three of them. 'Sherlock would you mind taking Ethan for the night so I can pamper my long-suffering wife as penance for missing out on a family gathering once again?' Sherlock smiled and nodded 'Absolutely.' The young boys eyes widened with delight on hearing he would be going home with his Uncle Sherlock. 'Sherlock can we do experiments together like last time. I promise I wont drop anything, can we?' Sherlock grinned at the boy's enthusiasm. 'You are in luck young man, I am returning home tonight as I need to check on some skin samples that are decomposing in my microwave so you could accompany me. However it will be very dangerous and we will absolutely need to wear goggles this time (he winked at Molly), OK?' 'OK, I promise I will be careful. Can I go mum really?' Molly smiled at them both. 'Of course you can, go and get your things ready, but you must promise not to bring any yucky stuff out of Baker Street this time. The school was not happy about you sharing your finger tips with your friends last time.' Sherlock smiled sheepishly 'it will help him when he is in biology class later Molly and you know it. Right come on then young Ethan let's get packed. Molly I will have him back home by Tuesday teatime. Goodbye Ed.' After giving Ed an affectionate nod and Molly a peck on the forehead Sherlock offered his hand to his young accomplice and they both set off across the lawn to say their goodbyes to everyone.


End file.
